2. Two
TWO
W orking at a casino wasn’t easy. That was one of the first things I’d learned when growing up.
Sure, the lesson had come under the roof of a different casino—more on that in a moment—but the only thing different about casinos was the decorations.
Management was almost always the same. The way things ran never differed. Things were just … the way they were.
How had I learned that? Because I grew up in Hawthorne Casino & Resort, which was exactly like Stone Casino & Resort. Well, except for Hawthorne favoring rich pinks and reds for the decor while Stone was all for sleek grays, blues, and purples. Otherwise, they were exactly the same.
Or, well, they used to be.
Hawthorne was operated by Norbert “Never call me Norbie” Hawthorne.
Stone used to be run by Ryder Stone. He’d been ousted a full year before, however, and arrested three months after that.
Now, he was in jail serving time for embezzlement.
From what I was hearing—and I was not in the inner circle—his mistress had left him, taking their love child with her, and his adult children from his broken marriage had basically cut him out of their lives.
The kids and the cheated-on wife were now running the show, and from what I could tell, they were doing a good job.
I avoided them like the bubonic plague, however.
Why? Because they knew me—and not as an employee.
And who was I? It was not some big secret.
Or, well, I guess it was. When I was here at work, I liked to fade into the woodwork for one very specific reason.
I didn’t want anybody to recognize me. If anybody realized that Norbert Hawthorne’s only son, Ronan Hawthorne, was working as a dealer at a rival casino, it would be scandalous news.
Vegas loved nothing more than scandalous news.
I don’t want to be the center of that news. Not ever.
So, that was why I avoid the Stones. I’d grown up with them.
The three sisters—Pearl, Opal, and Ruby—were older, to the point I had never been in the same school with them.
Zach, the only Stone son, and I were closer in age, only two years apart.
Were we tight? No. Not even a little. If anything, we were rivals.
I didn’t hate him or anything. In fact, over the last year, I’d earned a grudging respect for him.
He’d helped take down his own father. How could I not respect that?
I just didn’t want to explain my presence.
Would Zach have been mad to find out I was working for him? That was a hard question to answer. Maybe. Maybe not. He would definitely have questions. Right now, the last thing I wanted was to answer questions.
It wasn’t that I was doing anything nefarious.
That wasn’t my way. I was, however, working a plan.
Not only didn’t I want my father to know I was employed by Stone Casino—that would be disastrous—but I was also keeping secret why I was saving up so much of my own money.
He always held the purse strings open … with stipulations. He wouldn’t understand.
No, there was no plan for world domination. There was no plan to open my own casino and bring my father to his knees. I loved my father. I didn’t like him all that much. He was overbearing and bossy, things I wasn’t in the mood to deal with when it came to my career. And this was about my career.
I had no intention of being a dealer for the rest of my life. It was a perfectly respectable career. I just didn’t want it to be my career. No, my plans for myself involved a small gallery, cool cocktail parties, and a life away from the corporate mindset.
My father wanted me to take over running his casino.
He wanted me to be a big, important man.
He didn’t understand you didn’t need to run a casino to be those things.
Did I want to be big and important? I didn’t want to be big.
Being important, well, not everybody thought the same things were important.
That meant I needed to save up money. I had a plan.
Unfortunately, that plan included working at a rival casino, something that he would not take well. That was why I was keeping it to myself. For now, at least. I had no doubt the news would get out eventually. My goal was to make sure that eventually was further down the road. Much, much further.
I hummed to myself as I left the restroom.
I was on a break. We got three throughout our shifts.
It was a way to move us from table to table.
Being a blackjack dealer wasn’t as mindless as I initially envisioned.
We had to be on our toes, looking for hinky stuff.
That stuff included card counters, people working in teams, and the occasional prostitute sliding in to try to steal from our players.
Sure, we had security. Everybody worked together to keep the operation running seamlessly, however.
I was lost in thought—a painting I was working on was missing … something—and my mind had wandered to color palettes. So I missed the server scurrying past the restroom and accidentally plowed into her with enough force that she almost lost her footing. My regret was instantaneous.
“I’m so sorry.” I reached out to steady her, making sure she didn’t go down.
Long dark hair flew in every direction. Servers were supposed to wear their hair up, so I was thrown.
When petulant blue eyes turned in my direction, I felt as if I was being hurled into a wall.
I, unfortunately, recognized those eyes.
“Crap” was all I managed to say as I released her.
Tallulah wasn’t yet steady on her feet, so she fell into the hallway wall. Her eyes were dark pits of annoyance as they locked with mine. “Watch where you’re going,” she barked, straightening. “Geez Louise!”
I pressed my lips together, caught between amusement and annoyance. Tallulah had always thrown around ancient sayings even back when we knew each other in high school. That was a long time ago—almost fifteen years, in fact—and I held my breath as I waited to see if she would recognize me.
Please don’t recognize me. I wasn’t that lucky, however.
“Ronan?” Tallulah straightened, her hand immediately flying to her hair. “Ronan Hawthorne?”
I considered not responding and letting her believe she’d made a mistake.
“Where… What… You…” She had questions, obviously, but didn’t seem to know where to start.
I decided to play it coy. “I’m sorry.” My affect was flat and stiff. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t see me?” Tallulah’s eyes scanned the floor. She was no longer looking at me. This was my chance to escape. I didn’t, though. Instead, I studied her.
The years had been kind. Tallulah had always been beautiful.
Even when we were in middle school, she’d been the rock star of Roy W.
Martin Middle School, the only girl to have an absolutely perfect puberty.
Unlike the other girls, she never went through the awkward phase that plagued so many other kids.
Her mother, of course, had been a showgirl turned cocktail waitress.
She was beautiful too. She was also the type of woman none of the other mothers at the school liked because she was gorgeous …
and single. Everybody assumed that Sharon Jackson was out to snag their husbands.
In hindsight, I realized that must have been alienating for Tallulah. Back then I’d never considered it.
Looking at Tallulah now, it was obvious she’d gotten her mother’s looks.
Although Sharon’s blonde hair came from a bottle—even I was alert enough to register that at the age of thirteen—Tallulah opted to embrace her natural dark hair, which was offset by bright blue eyes. Quite frankly, she was stunning.
She was also dangerous. She was only one of a handful of people who could recognize me … and understand the importance of what she was seeing.
“Hey!” Tallulah snapped her fingers in front of my face to draw me out of my reverie, something I found annoying, which was good because it allowed me to forget how beautiful she was. “Are you even paying attention?”
I scowled at her. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“You ran into me.” Her hands landed on her hips. “I think you owe me an apology.”
“I’m sorry.” My response was automatic. I was sorry, though. I hadn’t meant to knock her into a wall. “I should be going.” I turned to leave, but apparently, that wasn’t in the cards.
“Oh, no way.” She grabbed my forearm and spun me back around, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?”
I was the picture of innocence. “I work here.”
“Yeah, I do too.” She gestured to her uniform. The black shorts were snug and tight. The top was also formfitting and cut low, allowing for an interesting glimpse of cleavage. Her shoulders were bare, and her heels were high. “Obviously. Why do you work here, though?”
“Um, they were hiring.” I’d yet to acknowledge that I knew her. Had she picked up on that yet? Hmm. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. “Do you have a problem with me working here?”
“I don’t have a problem with anything you do.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t even think of you.”
“Okay.” I turned to leave again. Please let me go this time. Tallulah didn’t do anything that people wanted her to do, however. I remembered that well.
“Ronan,” she sang out my name as if she was playing a creepy game of hide-and-seek. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry.” I purposely blanked my face. “Do I know you?”
There was a moment of uncertainty, her gaze dropping. What was that about? Then she recovered. “Are you trying to be sly?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Are you seriously pretending you don’t know who I am?” Was that sadness reflecting back from her eyes, or was it something else? For a moment, I felt guilty. Then her eyes narrowed. “Or are you playing a part because you’re here when you shouldn’t be here?”